


The First Time

by not_thepresident



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Established Relationship, F/M, Formal Event/Ball, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, light banter, saying ily for the first time, unless he's drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_thepresident/pseuds/not_thepresident
Summary: Draco Malfoy says "I love you" for the first time.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 113





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The First Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375109) by [makemefeellikehome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makemefeellikehome/pseuds/makemefeellikehome)



> I had this idea and couldn't not write it. it was always difficult for me to imagine a situation where Draco would say "I love you," bc in my head he's very stoic and guarded and not one to say it, especially after the war. probably not my best writing, but I wanted to get it down since I finally had the inspiration for this situation. enjoy!

Hermione is sure that the room would be spinning even if she wasn’t dancing. Harry has held her hand above his head for far too long now, which meant that the room must be spinning for him too, if he couldn’t tell that she should have stopped nine beats ago. Hermione ripped her hand from his, intending to _stop_ spinning, but she only catapulted herself toward another couple, nearly throwing them into another and causing a terrible, _hilarious_ domino effect. She gasped, stepped away, stumbled, and then Harry’s arms are at her sides, holding her upwards. She held the fine, silky material of his robes for dear life, and his eyes were as wide as hers when she finally looked up at him.

Immediately, they burst into uproarious, too loud laughter.

“I think we might be done,” Harry struggled out, the emerald in his eyes shining too brightly, enhanced by the tears welling there.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head against his chest, feeling tears of her own spilling down her cheeks. She _would_ agree with him, but now her laughter is silent, racking her entire body with muscle tearing shakes, and she can only nod against his jacket, her feet threatening to catch air if she moves an inch.

Bloody hell, it was _fun_ to be this drunk.

She opened her eyes once Harry started moving, wiping at her cheeks and covering her smile with her wrist. They have to support each other, as they make their way toward the table. Everyone else is gone, from what she can see through her blurry vision – off for another round of drinks, perhaps. She knew that Ron and Luna were at one point dancing next to them, but she didn’t quite care if they still were now. Because everyone else was gone, except for one black clad, platinum head at the table.

Hermione let Harry’s arm go, and practically crawled around the table. She fisted her dress upward – she’s not drunk enough to let herself trip to the floor, after all – and then she landed ungracefully in his lap, her one hand gripping the lapel of his jacket too tightly, and perhaps with a little too clear of an intention that she wanted to rip it _off_ him at some point tonight.

“Hi,” she gasped out, and she threw her head back, unable to stifle her giggles.

Draco’s hand was at the small of her back, and it spidered upward, his cool fingers making her shiver. Of course, he couldn’t keep his hands off the skin there, the low, open back of her dress making it easy for him. She bought the dress _specifically_ with the thought in mind: Draco could never help himself, and she quite enjoyed that he couldn’t.

“How are you?” she asked, after her fit was done. Hermione snapped her head back toward him, and her breath caught.

He was hiding a smile behind his fingers, and his eyes were glittering, no, sparkling under the magnificent chandelier above them; better than the finest silver. His cheeks were tinged pink, but it looked like he could have a sunburn, with how pale he is; a telltale sign that she is not the only one drunk in this situation. He dragged his gaze over her, memorizing details she’ll never see, and Hermione can’t help the stutter of her heart when his eyes didn't dip downwards, toward the low cut of her dress. Any other man would, but Draco didn't, like her face was the only thing he’ll need to see for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Hermione stilled, her smile fading slightly. Of course, she said it before, multiple times, to him. But Draco never said it back; there was a time where she was annoyed, frustrated, _hurt_ by the fact. As their relationship progressed, though, she understood that that was just Draco; he didn’t even tell his mother he loved her, and Hermione knew for a fact that he did. And he always _showed_ that he loved her: he always had dinner ready when she had a bad day, he did the dishes the _Muggle_ way without her asking, he let her scream and shout when she was angry, and he told her to take a day to think about it when she was upset. Draco knew her, and she knew that he loved her.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Hermione mustered.

Draco tapped at his chin, and he shook his head, smiling brightly. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else. It’s all I could say.”

Hermione decided a long time ago that it would be okay if she never heard it. But this was better than Christmas morning. 

She let out a breath, her lips splitting into a wide smile. She leaned forward, lifting his chin with her fingertips and capturing his mouth with hers. His hand pressed against her back, pressed her closer to him, as if trying to meld their chests together. When Hermione broke the kiss, leaning back slightly and drinking him in, she could only think of one thing.

“I love you, too,” she said.

Draco lifted his hand, brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then he was cupping her cheek, his thumb grazing under her eye and sending butterflies soaring to her toes.

“You knew, right?” he asked, anxiety flashing across his face.

Hermione tsked, covering his hand with her own. “Of course, I did.” She schooled her features then, attempting her best impression of Professor McGonagall. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re getting lucky because you finally said it.”

Draco snorted and tilted his face toward the floor. “My plan is foiled, then.”

Hermione barked out a laugh, and she dropped both of their hands. She stood from his lap and pulled him toward her, lifting a brow conspiratorially.

“Maybe if you dance with me,” she purred.

Draco smirked, and he dragged himself from his seat, all the pureblood training surfacing as he guided her toward the dance floor.

“Anything for you, Granger.” 


End file.
